The demon-possessed Heather eased back against the Dumpster and smiled faintly. “Well, this just got a lot more promising.”
“Let the girl go,” Brian said. “You’re clearly outnumbered.”
The words came out strong and sure. A remarkable feat, considering that the sight of a hollow-cheeked Heather stabbed him with memories so vicious they nearly ripped his heart out. The bluish skin, the sunken eyes. They were so damned familiar.
Melanie.
He hadn’t actually seen his sister the day she died, but he’d seen pictures. His dad had thrust police photos of her body under his nose, and in that voice only a father raging with grief could summon, ordered him to look at them. And look he had. Until hot tears had blinded him. She’d looked just like this, right down to the syringe in her arm.
“The only numbers that need concern you are the minutes remaining in this girl’s life.” Malumos licked his cracked lips. “Your arrival, while welcome, startled us. We couldn’t help but release a few drops.”
Brian met the demon’s gaze over Lena’s head.
“Potassium chloride. Deadly stuff. She really needs a doctor,” Malumos said calmly. “But first, you’ll need to give us the coins.”
God help him He actually considered doing it.
He hadn’t saved Melanie. Screwup that he’d been, he’d been too high to understand the importance of her call, too wrapped up in his own drug-induced pleasure to hear the note of despair in her voice. He’d hung up the phone with some vague promise to visit her and then continued to party. He’d let her down in the most abysmal way possible. She died. Because of him.
But Heather didn’t have to die.
He could save her.
Just by handing over the coins in his pocket. One simple gesture and Heather could recover, Lena could be happy, and some part of his heart would lighten under its unbearable load.
But the need to save Heather was a selfish one.
Yes, she was a kid worth saving. No doubt about that. God, he just had to look at that hint of youthful rebellion in her eyes to know she had potential. But if Satan got his hands on all twenty-nine coins, more good people like Heather would die. Riots and wars would break out all over the world, and those deaths would be laid on his doorstep, too.
Damn it.
It would kill him. And every time he looked in Lena’s eyes, he’d die a little more. But he had to hold on to the coins. It was his duty—and it was the right thing to do.
“Go to hell.”
Brian’s arrival was a godsend.
Tucked against his broad chest, wrapped in his sturdy arms, Lena quickly regained her strength. And her resolve.
She knew what she had to do.
In its current undamaged state, the amulet was worth over half a million dollars. A genuine artifact excavated from the tomb of a royal priest in the Valley of the Kings, it had been her safety net since her father collapsed over her mother’s grave. He’d left it on his desk the day he returned to his dig, a lost and broken man. It was the one artifact she had never sold, never parted with. Dhul-Fiqaar had taken it from her dead body, but his ownership of the pendant had been brief. As his life had been.
Since then, it had helped her find a certain level of peace.
All the money she earned from her artifact thefts had been donated anonymously to her family. She’d supported her eccentric father until his death, paid the taxes on his estate, bought a house in California for Lily and her husband. She’d put her grandchildren and her great-grandchildren through college. They had never wanted, not once, not even through the Great Depression.
Parting with the amulet to save Heather’s life would be bittersweet.
With her face pressed against Brian’s comforting warmth and one hand splayed over the reassuring thud of his heart, she began the incantation.
The amulet, already pulsing in protest at the demon’s presence, heated to a scalding temperature. But Lena refused to let go. Nor did she slow the flow of words or hesitate, even for a second. She had one chance. She wasn’t going to waste it.
The muscles underneath her hand grew taut as Brian became aware that her lips were moving, but he didn’t react in any other way. As she continued to mouth the ancient Egyptian words, the top layer of the amulet in her hand lifted a fraction and gave off a faint hiss, breaking a seal made more than four thousand years ago.
“Go to hell.”
As Brian told Malumos what he thought of the demon’s offer, the top of the amulet slid sideways. Instantly, loose wisps of dark blue smoke were sucked into the open cavity. Controlled by the ancient demon-banishing spell, the smoke threads entered the amulet without seeping into her skin. Heartened, Lena muttered faster, still under her breath.
The draw of smoke into the demon trap deepened, becoming a steady stream of midnight blue, no longer possible to disguise. But Malumos did not go easily.
“No,” he roared. Instead of resisting the pull, he dropped Heather’s body and swam out into the open, an ill-defined, ghostly shape formed entirely of smoke.
Lena spun around in Brian’s arms, smiling.
A thrall could survive only a few moments outside of its host. She’d won. Even if the trap failed, Malumos was going back to hell.
But her smile quickly froze on her face.
Malumos descended upon her in full demon force, a deadly blue storm determined to wrest the amulet from her hands.
Lena was left with a nightmarish choice—halt the spell to cast a shield over herself, or keep going. She closed her eyes and kept going. She braced herself for the incoming fireballs and spoke out loud, firmly intoning the demon exorcism. Heather could not withstand another possession.
The hot whoosh of a fireball passing a hairbreadth from her ear made her jump, but did not make her stop. And after that first one, no others came close.
When she opened her eyes, the reason became clear.
Brian stood between her and Malumos, his sword swinging with heart-pounding speed, parrying every shot from the demon with power and precision. His rain-soaked shirt clung to him, displaying every angle of his hard body in sharp relief. His arms twisted like thick ropes, and his shoulders bunched and flexed with a smoothness that belied the effort he must be exerting. To Lena’s eyes, he was a king among warriors.
Blue smoke continued to stream into the amulet, drawing strength and shape from Malumos. Although he raged and spit and fought to the end, he was no match for the ancient Egyptian spell.
In less than two minutes, it was all over. The lid to the amulet slid shut, and the thin line that marked its existence vanished. The amulet once again looked like a solid gold pendant.
But the spell was only one-half of the exorcism.
Lena’s hand trembled as she unhooked the pendant from around her neck and placed it on the paved ground. The temptation to keep the amulet, to use it as she had for the past century—to locate salable antiquities—was high. But if Malumos ever got free, he would seek out Heather and kill her.
It was a risk Lena could not afford to take.
Her gaze met Emily’s and the teenager nodded. Lifting her foot, Lena stomped on the pendant, crushing the soft gold with her boot heel. The magic of the amulet drew in on itself, collapsing like a mystical black hole, sending the demon’s evil Ba into oblivion. An echo of a scream resounded in her ears, then faded into silence.
A brief pang of loss filled her chest. But it washed away the moment she tugged the needle free of Heather’s arm and Brian folded all three women into his strong, dependable arms.
20
“We need a mystical vault to keep the coins in,” Brian said to MacGregor, as Rachel adjusted the hospital pillows behind the other man’s back. Thanks to the mage, the Gatherer Trainer’s horrible blisters had all but disappeared. “Someplace we can feel confident they’ll stay out of Satan’s reach.”
His friend grimaced. “Is there such a place?”
“Stefan and I will figure something out.” Brian poin
ted to the heavy bandage on MacGregor’s shoulder. “How long before you can get back to work?”
“The doctor said six weeks, but I think—” The other man glanced at Rachel, who did nothing more than narrow her eyes. MacGregor subsided against the pillow. “Six weeks.”
“Being human sucks, huh?”
“No’ entirely.” MacGregor tossed another look at Rachel. “Can I tell him?”
She nodded.
MacGregor grinned. “I’m going to be a father.”
“Bullshit.” Brian’s gaze swung to Rachel, who was now smiling serenely, and then over to Emily, who was shoveling MacGregor’s cup of lime Jell-O into her mouth. “Really?”
“Apparently,” Emily said, licking the plastic spoon. “Not that I asked for details.”
Brian had never even thought about becoming a father, but the knowledge that he would never share the experience with the woman of his dreams suddenly struck him hard. Gatherers were dead, and so was their sperm. No kids in his future. Not ever. He’d have to be satisfied playing uncle to MacGregor’s brood.
“Congratulations,” he offered the couple sincerely. “When are we expecting the new addition?”
“December.” Rachel beamed. Then she seemed to remember that not everyone’s life was rosy. “How’s Heather doing?”
“Good,” Brian responded, happy to change the subject. “Despite the demon’s threats to the contrary, hardly any potassium chloride ended up inside her. The doctors gave her some stuff to counteract the effects and, physically, she’s going to make a full recovery.”
Rachel’s face darkened. “Mentally?”
“Less of a sure bet,” he admitted. “She’s having a hard time living with all the things she did while she was possessed.”
“But it wasn’t really her doing that stuff,” Emily said.
“We’ve told her that a thousand times. Problem is, she remembers it all.” He sighed. “I should go check on them.”
There was pity on their faces as he backed out of the room. Some for Heather, which he understood. And some for him. They knew without being told how attached he’d gotten to Lena. They also knew where that relationship was headed. Nowhere. Lena just wasn’t the trusting type. She didn’t share anything, she didn’t let herself depend on anyone, and she didn’t ask for help. Ever. And that wasn’t a foundation you could build a future on.
He entered Heather’s hospital room, a private bed courtesy of Brian’s substantial bank balance. Least he could do after abandoning the kid to what could have been a grisly death. Lena looked up as he approached, her eyes red rimmed.
Uh-oh.
That meant Heather was talking about suicide again. Which was the reason she hadn’t been released yet. They were waiting on a psych consult.
“Hey,” he said to the teen as he crossed the spotless but well-worn linoleum floor. “Did you eat some lunch?”
Heather shrugged. “Nothing tasted good.”
That was junkie code for, If it isn’t laced with heroin, don’t bother. Brian pulled up a chair and sat down. None of this shit was a mystery to him. He’d been here, too. In the days after Melanie died.
“Listen up,” he said to Heather. “I’m going to tell you a story.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, I know. You don’t want to hear it. But I’m going to tell you anyway, because I need to.”
Lena frowned at him, but he didn’t meet her eyes. There was no way he’d be able to say everything he had to say if he looked at her. The shame would eat him whole.
“Seven years ago, I hit what I thought was the absolute bottom of the barrel,” he said. “I was a stockbroker pulling down two hundred grand a year and wasting it all on smack. My heroin addiction got so out of control that I started stealing money from my investment clients. Little bits at first. Then more and more. My boss—the guy who hired me and gave me every opportunity to make something of myself, the guy who nicely turned a blind eye to a couple of days when I simply didn’t show up for work—found out.”
Brian caught Heather’s eye. “Think I’m going to tell you I considered ending it then? Nope. I was a bigger idiot than that. My boss was a saint. He risked his own career by offering to cover my shortfall. He said if I agreed to pay him back within three months, he wouldn’t press charges. Did I fall to my knees and kiss his shoes like I should have? No. I refused his offer. I figured there was no way I could maintain my habit and make up the money, so why even try?”
Heather looked away.
“Ring any bells?”
She nodded.
“You know what I did next? I did what any messed-up junkie would do—I went out partying. I got totally high so I didn’t have to think about the guilt and the future or how it was all going to work out.”
Heather nodded again.
“Here comes the best part,” he warned her. “By Saturday night I’ve hocked my TV and my Rolex, and I’m completely zoned out. My little sister calls me. She’s seventeen, and the crazy kid has looked up to me my whole life. She’s even followed in my footsteps, hanging out with my old high school buddies and doing drugs.”
The memory of Melanie’s smile flashed in his mind. Painfully bright.
“She’s calling me to say she’s tired of everything. The bullshit, the guilt, the unquenchable need. She begs me to come home, to spend a day in Brick, to talk to her.” He barely remembered the call itself. Mostly, he remembered what came after. “I say, ‘Sure, be there tomorrow.’ But I never went. I was too wasted.”
His shoulders felt unbearably heavy, and he tried to straighten them to ease the pressure. “The next thing I know, I’m getting a phone call from my dad saying my sister is dead, that she died of an overdose on Sunday around noon.”
He smiled ruefully. “I know a thing or two about guilt. I know a whole lot more about being a useless piece of shit.”
Lena stood up.
Afraid that she’d come to his side or ask him to stop, Brian stood, too. “To make a long story short, I lost my job. My parents coughed up the money to keep me out of jail, but they had to put a second mortgage on their house to do it. My sister left a note, saying that she called me but I didn’t come, and my dad never spoke to me again.”
He picked up Heather’s thin hand and gently squeezed.
His eyes were itchy.
“At that point, I was convinced dirt was worth more than I was. When I tell you I understand what it’s like to want to opt out, I do, believe me. I didn’t commit suicide, but I gave up in a different way. Right after completing the very expensive rehab program my parents checked me into, I went right back to the drugs and booze. Three days later, I wrapped my car around a tree. It was going to be repossessed the next day, so I took it for one last spin.”
Heather’s eyes were wide.
“Yeah, in the dictionary under loser, they have a picture of me.” He tried for a smile, but couldn’t quite pull it off. “So, why am I telling you all this, other than to tell you I get it?”
She stared back at him.
“Because I know firsthand what will happen if you kill yourself. And here’s the part you don’t want to hear. The pain will be over for you, but the pain won’t be close to over for the people who love you. My parents are good folks, Heather. But between my sister and me, we beat ’em up bad. My dad said he blamed me for Melanie’s death, but you know what? He didn’t. Not really. He blamed himself. How do I know that? He’s still in therapy seven years later.”
The girl pulled her hand free.
“My sister’s best friend, Carla? She beat the drugs. Went into rehab, got clean, and now she’s a librarian. Hard for me to imagine, but it’s true. It won’t be easy to move on, but moving on is possible, if you want it badly enough.”
Heather chewed her lip. “Did you move on?”
He smiled. “What do you think?”
“But... how?”
“With help.” He lifted his gaze to meet Lena’s. “Every day is a hard, uphill climb, but
then at some point you realize six years have gone by, and you’re still okay. Still sane.”
“I don’t think I can be me anymore.”
He looked at her, serious. “I’m not going to lie to you. You can’t be the Heather you were before this all started. That person isn’t who you are now. But the person you are now is already way stronger. And she can be a better person than she was before. If you give up now, if you end it here, she’ll never get that chance. And take my word for it: It’s worth the effort it takes to get here.”
Her eyes softened a little. “But how do you forget?”
He shook his head. “You don’t. You just learn to accept. None of us is perfect—we’re all flawed. Some of us worse than others.”
“Did you forgive yourself?”
Brian took a deep breath. “Not for a very long time. But I have now. Now that I’m doing something better with my life. You can turn the corner, too, Heather. Lena and I will make sure you get the help you need. We’ll be around if you need someone to lean on, or just to talk to.” He wasn’t sure Lena would want him to stay that close, but what the hell. She’d have to deal with it. “We’ll do whatever it takes, if you’re willing to make a go of it. Are you?”
Heather looked at Lena, then back at Brian.
She nodded.
“Good,” he said, smiling. “First step, you need to talk to someone with no stake in the game. A doctor.” He waved a hand at the door and Dr. Edwards, the hospital’s resident psychiatrist, came in. “Lena and I will be waiting outside.”
Lena trailed Brian out of the room, not certain what to say. Her hand instinctively went to the gold pendant, but it wasn’t there. “You never told me any of that when we talked about your addiction.”
“I’ve never told anyone until today.”
He sat on a plastic chair in the hallway and propped his elbows on his knees.
Lena slid onto the seat next to him. “Have you really forgiven yourself? Or did you just say that to make Heather feel better?”
“It’s true.”
Bound by Darkness Page 30